


Notice of Entry

by PrincessMattiNorTheFirst



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff, Graduate Student Stiles Stilinski, Human Derek Hale, Humor, Kittens, M/M, suggestions of verse!sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:26:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4746461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessMattiNorTheFirst/pseuds/PrincessMattiNorTheFirst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Stiles had remembered that someone was coming to install new kitchen cabinets in the apartment, he probably would have been wearing clothes when the guy arrived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Notice of Entry

**Author's Note:**

> Rated Mature for some language, suggested situations, and Stiles' dirty thoughts. 
> 
> Recently learned that many style guides recommend adding "'s" for possessives of names ending in s, which is not what I learned many years ago. I tried it and hated it, so Stiles no longer has possession of anything. Kidding. Stiles' possessions remain written the old way.

     Stiles was already having one of those afternoons. Only awake for a few hours and he was ready to be done with the day. Sure, it was occasionally fun for him to get so caught up in his research that he went to bed at sunrise, but this time, he had forgotten to do his laundry, which meant his afternoon had started very poorly. And it was afternoon when he finally woke up and looked in his closet. Stiles was normally fine with wearing clothes multiple times, as long as they seemed clean, but this situation was dire. That meant he had to rush to do his laundry before work.  
      Of course, his laundry card was empty, so he took a trip to the ATM and then the annoying apartment complex laundry card machine. That machine ate his first $20, which was a bummer, and then the dryer ate the laundry card, so it was back to the apartment complex office to get that fixed.  
      At that point, Stiles figured the rest of the day had to go smoothly, but nope. His computer fritzed out while he was trying to e-mail some articles to the PI at his forensics chem lab. Then it turned out the dryer actually hadn’t done any drying at all, so he had to run another load. Later, as he gathered his clothes and ran back to his apartment, he realized that he was going to be super late to lab, despite his special permission to work in the afternoons and evenings, and he still hadn’t taken a shower.  
Stiles tossed his warm clothes onto the couch, hopped in the shower for three minutes, and then walked back to the living room naked and dripping wet because he’d forgotten his towel in the pile of laundry. He also now had the kitten that adopted him a few weeks before on his back. The kitten was obsessed with walking on his wet, naked back after the shower, which sometimes felt great but sometimes felt like his back was going to be clawed out. The little guy always purred like a mofo, though, so Stiles didn’t have the heart to do anything about it. It was when Stiles was bent over, tossing around his clothes to try to find his towel (and something to wear that day) that he heard a key turning in the lock.  
      “What the fuck?” he said to himself, kind of freaking out, because he lived alone and no one else had the key. Unless he had a stalker, or other keys worked in his apartment. “UMMM, there’s someone in here! Stop opening the door! Hold on a second!” he shouted, as the internal debate between running to the door or grabbing some clothes to cover himself froze him in place for a millisecond too long. “What are you doing? STOP!” Stiles shouted again as the key kept turning.  
      Then the door opened. Stiles bolted upright, the kitten flew off his back, and Stiles flew into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him and shouting, “What the FUCKING FUCK? Seriously, what the FUCK? What are you doing in my damn apartment and why didn’t you knock? I’m fucking naked, are you fucking kidding me?”  
      Stiles heard the door to his apartment close, the stranger leaving, but Stiles was pretty damn sure the guy at the door had gotten a good glimpse of his dangling dong. Fuck.

     Less than a minute later, Stiles, still breathing heavily and pissed off, had thrown on his jeans - no boxers - and opened his front door, only to find the interloping stranger walking away from his apartment with a dolly full of wood and a box of tools.  
      “Dude, what the FUCK were you doing?” Stiles snapped, and then the guy turned around and looked at him, and he was seriously the best looking man Stiles had ever seen in his entire life.  
      Perfect brown scruff that accentuated a chiseled jaw and ridiculous cheekbones, slightly tanned skin, greenish eyes, although they were so unique Stiles couldn’t actually tell what color they were. And his body - Jesus - this guy was wearing a tight gray tank top and jeans, and he was sweating a bit, so his arm muscles (which were just the right amount of huge) were glistening. Stiles could see some glorious chest hair peaking out the top of the tank top, which was so thin he could also see the outline of nipples on the most defined pecks he had ever seen. Stiles wanted to keep yelling but his brain short circuited and he also was wondering if he could rewind the scene and just remain standing naked in his living room and say something brilliant like, “Oh, finally, you’ve arrived.”  
      “They were supposed to have sent you a notice that I was entering today to start replacing the kitchen cabinets,” the guy said, gruffly and non-apologetically, but Stiles could tell he was really embarrassed. There was a blush-like hue tinting his shoulders and collarbone and slightly visible on his chest underneath that hair.  
      “What? I thought that was next week,” Stiles said, having a vague recollection of something being taped to his door. “Well, maybe it was this week, but you should really knock,” he snapped again.  
      “I did knock,” the guy said, and Stiles clocked him glancing briefly down towards his bare chest and then back up again really quickly, clearly trying to avoid looking. This quick glance pleased Stiles for a couple of reasons: the downward part because it meant hot cabinet guy was checking him out, and the upward part because it meant the glance was too quick to notice what was going on in Stiles’ pants, given that the thought “Me. Naked. This guy,” and any ensuing imagery that phrase could conjure was now pinging about nonstop in his head. It had been a long time since Stiles had been attracted to an actual, real-live guy. He’d had a long-term girlfriend in college, and before that, his one attempt at pursuing a guy had ended without anything happening, so he was somewhat astonished by the force of this. But he was still angry that this guy had walked into his apartment, seen him in his birthday suit, and was being kind of an ass about it.  
      “I shouted for you to stop!”  
      “I didn’t hear,” the guy said, still tersely. Stiles glared at him - directly into his eyes - until he added, “I’m sorry. I really am.”  
      “Well, you should really knock louder. I mean, I’m getting ready for work. I was…naked!”  
      The guy started to say something, but then stopped himself, pursed his lips into a half grimace/half smile, raised his ridiculously thick eyebrows, and inhaled a little snort.  
      “Dude.” Stiles really didn’t know what to make of that face. And then he suddenly realized the grimace on hot cabinet guy’s face may have been because he was trying not to laugh.  
      “I’m so sorry, really.”  
      “It’s okay. It’s just - knock harder next time.”  
      “I will.”  
      Awkward silence and staring.  
      “Is tomorrow okay to come back?” the guy asked.  
      “Yeah - I mean, you could come back in a half hour, I’ll be gone. Oh, shit, was I supposed to take stuff out of the cabinets?”  
      “Yes…”  
      “Can you do it? Do you mind?”  
      “Most people don’t like that. And it’s not really my job.”  
      “I don’t really care if most people like it. I don’t want to do it. And…naked, remember?”  
      The guy pursed his lips, again. “Point taken. Okay, I’ll do it.”  
      “How long will this whole thing take?” Stiles asked as he tried to think about whether there was anything weird in his kitchen cabinets. Probably not, except for some catnip that looked like pot, or maybe some pot that looked like catnip, and some new kitten toys. He was glad it wasn’t a puppy who had adopted him, since puppy toys were sometimes harder to identify as actual puppy toys and not…other things.  
      “A few afternoons, maybe?” the guy said after some hesitation.  
      “Okay. Okay. Just come back in half hour,” Stiles said, looking into the guy’s eyes again, unable to pull himself away. “Oh…oh! There’s a kitten that just adopted me. He’s really little. Make sure he doesn’t get out or get into anything.”  
      “I saw the kitten.”  
      “Oohhhh…you saw the kitten,” Stiles paused, replaying, again, the flying-kitten naked run to the bedroom. “That dude just loves riding me, what can I say?” Hot cabinet guy scrunched up his face and stifled a laugh. “Not that. I probably should not have said that. So…kitten. Don’t let him escape or eat any nails or anything.”  
      Hot cabinet guy nodded. “I won’t. And really, I didn’t…”  
      “Umm, I’m pretty sure you did. Let’s just erase the incident from our memories.” Stiles shut his eyes and pretended to mind-wipe himself. “There, incident gone.” (The incident was definitely not gone, and Stiles was relieved to see that hot cabinet guy was still staring into his eyes when he opened them.) “I’m Stiles, by the way,” he said as he started to reach out his hand for a shake, but then felt stupid because of the whole “being naked in front of someone before you meet him” thing and started to pull his hand up and back. This was, of course, just as hot cabinet guy started to reach out his hand but noticed Stiles pulling back into a wave so pulled back himself. However, they were standing close together so they ended up doing a semi-high-five by accident.  
      “None of this has been at all awkward, by the way,” Stiles said, and the guy actually laughed out loud.  
      “And, by the way, I’m Derek.”

     When Stiles got home from lab in the middle of the night, he noticed two things: a giant cardboard box (taped closed) was in the kitchen and the cabinets looked exactly the same. The note he taped to the door - marked “Derrick” on the front - was now on the counter with some extra writing on the bottom.  
     Stiles had written: “Hi Derrick, I’m really sorry I cursed at you this afternoon. There’s some pizza in the fridge if you want it. And remember not to let T.K.T.A.M (the kitten that adopted me) out.”  
     The response was: “Thanks for the pizza. T.K.T.A.M (T.K.T.A.Y?) misbehaved and is in the bedroom. Text me at the number on my card if tomorrow afternoon doesn’t work for me to come back. - Derek.”  
     Stiles was disappointed in the short response, but as he grabbed a beer from the fridge and took a long, cool gulp, he had to resist the urge to text Derek to tell him that the middle of the night was actually the best time to install kitchen cabinets.

     The next night, Stiles returned home to find Teaktam (that’s how Stiles was pronouncing it, because he didn’t want to name the kitten since that would be a commitment to keeping him, even though it was already pretty clear that he was keeping the kitten) desperately trying to get into the kitchen by hopping up and down next to a baby gate that Stiles didn’t own. There was also a new note on the counter, on top of the one Stiles had left for Derek. This one said, “Yes, I see that a notice of entry that said Monday, August 8th was not helpful, since August 8th was not a Monday. Check your fridge - noticed you liked craft beer, hope you like this Kern River six-pack.”

     Stiles wasn’t sure how long it was supposed to take to install these new cabinets, but he did hang around his apartment a little bit later Wednesday afternoon, hoping Derek would come while he was there. Stiles admonished himself for actually thinking that - “I’m gonna hang around and maybe Derek will come while I’m here” - and then laughing to himself like a 12-year-old boy. (Living alone had its benefits, but preventing Stiles from talking to himself was not one of them.)  
     Derek did not show up, though, and Stiles was disappointed. He threw some ale from San Marcos into the fridge as an offering, and then rushed through the parking lot to his car, not really looking where he was going because he was daydreaming about all of the different ways that first afternoon could have gone (if he and Derek were living in a porn). He was pretty sure he’d actually rewritten the memory at this point, having gone over it so many times. And it was possible the other stuff he was doing while going over it had made at least part of this rewrite take hold: Stiles had to remind himself that he did not actually stand stock still as Derek took in the full, naked length of him and then pounced. And that Derek’s mouth had not been around his cock. And his mouth had not been around Derek’s (or any man’s, for that matter).  
     These were maybe not the ideal things to be thinking when he ran into Derek.  
     As in, physically crashed into the front of Derek as Derek turned from the back of a pick-up truck. Stiles thought he probably stabbed Derek in the upper thigh (”God dammit, why am I 12? Why? Why?”) and he made a quick move to back away. Somehow, instead, he ended up grabbing hold of Derek’s arm to stay upright, and then realized that Derek was grabbing on to his other arm as well.  
      “I’m so sorry,” Stiles said, and then he tittered nervously.  
      “Are you okay?” Derek asked.  
      “I’m fine. Are you okay?” Derek nodded in response.“So…the cabinets look great.”  
      “I haven’t really done anything yet.”  
      “Right. Well, they look like they’re going to be great. How was Teaktam yesterday? Did he behave?” Smooth, Stiles, really smooth. Talking about the cat is always the way to go. Derek didn’t flinch, though, and actually didn’t miss a beat on the name pronunciation.  
      “He was better with the gate up. He kept trying to jump on my back before that.”  
      “While you were working on the cabinets.”  
      “Right, while I was working on the cabinets.”  
      “That aren’t done.”  
      “No, they aren’t done,” Derek said, raising those big eyebrows of his again, “I actually probably will be done tomorrow.”  
      “No need to rush,” Stiles blurted out. “I want these cabinets done right. They are important to me, these cabinets.”  
      “The cabinets you barely remembered.”  
      “I did remember, I just thought it was happening next week. You saw the notice.” (Stiles really did not remember; in fact, he still had no idea why he was getting new kitchen cabinets, apparently hand-carved by Derek. He’d decided not to ask his apartment complex in case it was a mistake. He was actually pretty sure it was a mistake.)  
      “That I did,” Derek smiled, and then unclasped his hand from Stiles’ arm. “Well, I should let you go and then I can get to work on the cabinets.”  
      “You do that. That’s a good idea.” Stiles didn’t make a move to go, though. His eyes flitted to Derek’s smirking lips, and Stiles was vaguely aware of them saying, “Okay. Good seeing you, Stiles.” Stiles was thinking about whether it was appropriate to try to make out with a stranger next to his pickup truck. Probably not.  
      “I should probably move,” Stiles thought to himself, but he was still staring at Derek’s lips, and his incongruously adorable long front teeth, so when he did move, he walked right into Derek.  
      “Oh, sorry, clumsy today, see you later!” Stiles said, as Derek turned his body to let Stiles go past him. When Stiles glanced quickly back, Derek was still standing there staring.

     Very early Thursday morning, Stiles arrived home to some Alpine beer and several finished cabinets. After drinking three of the beers and daydreaming - probably unwise on a work night - Stiles decided that he’d have to do something more than just leave the Paso Robles craft in the fridge.

     Stiles had absolutely no idea what the small wooden sculpture on his counter was until he read the note Derek had left sometime during the day Thursday.  
     “Stiles - It’s definitely going to take me an extra day to replace the cabinets T.K.T.A.M. destroyed and then finish up, but you’re right, given that I may have seen you naked, I will do it. I did not know kittens could unscrew hinges that way, but you learn something new every day. I don’t know much about cats, but I used the destroyed wood to carve a model of something I think might help with T.K.T.A.M.’s rambunctious side. Let me know if you want me to make it for you. - Derek.”  
      Stiles took a closer look at the wooden thing: it was intricate, and beautiful, and it looked like some sort of a tree with branches and holes in the bottom and middle. In the middle hole was a delicately carved and very tiny…kitten.  
      A cat condo.  
      A model cat condo.  
      “Well, that escalated quickly,” Stiles thought as his stomach fluttered.  
      Stiles buried his head in his hands on the kitchen counter and exhaled. Was this happening? Maybe handsome kitchen cabinet makers offered to build super stylish cat condos for men they saw naked all the time.  
      That could be a thing.  
      That could totally be a thing. Stiles would really not have any idea if it were a thing or not.

     Stiles knew he was taking a risk by going home early on Friday afternoon. Trying to turn fantasy to reality - whether the fantasy did or didn’t actually become reality - was something that terrified (and excited) Stiles. So he knew what he was doing by going home really early, and he should probably not have been surprised when he opened the door to his apartment to find Derek on all fours in the living room, black tank top riding up so the skin on his lower back was showing, basically waving his perfect ass at the door.  
      But he was surprised. Very surprised. Or, perhaps, more to the point, doomed. While he was briefly entertaining the notion of backing out and pretending he didn’t come home, Derek growled. A low, loud growl, and Stiles took a few steps in to see Derek actually baring his teeth in the growl.  
      At Teaktam, who was in front of him, and who fluffed and hopped three feet backwards when Derek growled again.  
      Derek clearly didn’t notice Stiles when he growled again and said, “Oh hey, come on buddy, you know you like that.” And Teaktam did, apparently, because he de-fluffed, started purring, and ran up to Derek and started nuzzling his nose. Derek nuzzled back and scratched him on the head. “Yeah, you do, don’t you?”  
      Stiles guffawed. “That may be the silliest, cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”  
      “You’re home early,” Derek said back. Gruff, but with a hint of happiness.  
      Stiles dropped his bag and sat down on the floor next to Derek, who eyed him quizzically. “Well, you know, I was hoping to catch you in the act of something. Down on all fours is pretty good. Though it would have been better if you were naked.”  
      Derek snorted and pinched his nose  
      “I mean, no, that’s not…God damn it. I’m an idiot.”  
      “You’re definitely an idiot. Really, you can let the naked thing go. I would barely remember if you hadn’t brought it up. Again.”  
      “Well, I remember. You weren’t the one on display for a hot stranger,” Stiles winced at his words as Teaktam ran and jumped on his shoulder. “By hot, I mean sweaty, because of the weather.”  
      “I was definitely sweatier after I left that first time,” Derek, still on all fours, said as he stared into Stiles’ eyes.  
      Stiles shuddered, could feel his heart rate increase, and the way Derek was studying him, it made him think Derek could sense it, too. It became a feedback loop. Stiles felt completely transparent under Derek’s gaze, felt his face flushing. Stiles bit his lip and inhaled deeply.  
      “He really does love riding you,” Derek said, and now it was Stiles’ turn to bust out laughing, which scared Teaktam again and he ran off to the bedroom.  
      “Well, I wonder if there’s anyone else here who would love riding me,” Stiles said, and with that, Derek grabbed his face in his hands and shook his head.  
      “Oh dear god. Stop. Just stop,” Derek whined from the floor.  
      “What?” Stiles, wide-eyed, played dumb as Derek looked up at him.  
      “Just stop,” Derek said again as he sat up and cupped Stiles’ chin in his hot hand and then pressed their lips together.  
      Stiles parted his lips gently for Derek as Derek’s rough scruff burned burned his face. In the best way. The kiss was soft and sexy and sweet and intense all at the same time. They were kneeling, torsos pressed together. Stiles could feel Derek getting turned on, and as Derek’s hand lightly grazed Stiles’ chest, Stiles thought he might explode right then and there.  
      “It might be too early for this,” Stiles partially broke away from Derek to say. “But I have a really great idea if you’re into role play.”  
      “What?” Derek stuttered out as he bit at Stiles’ lip.  
      “You can probably guess - it involves a guy coming to install kitchen cabinets walking in on a really hot guy who happens to be completely naked.”  
      “I’d be down for that,” Derek said, wrapping his arms around Stiles and pulling him to the ground. “And by the way, I definitely, definitely remember.”

     A year later, the kitchen cabinets still weren’t finished, Teaktam was huge and had the most stylish condo in California, and they had discovered that Derek very much enjoyed riding Stiles (and the other way around). Stiles also got into the habit of choosing random days to walk around naked when he was alone in the apartment, so that Derek never quite knew what he would catch a glimpse of when he got home. Really, it never got old.


End file.
